Like Alec and Hilaria Baldwin, I have a lot of kids. This is what it’s actually like
I recall one woman who took offense at our big family, sniffing, ‘I am only having one child because I care about this planet!’ And I understand her reasoning. But I choose optimism
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Alec and Hilaria Baldwin just announced the impending arrival of their seventh child. And while I don’t pretend to have an inside track on their family dynamics, I couldn’t help but wish them well. Children, I have come to understand, are a great blessing, and those who have the means to raise a large brood have the right to do so.
When my husband and I married in 1977, I had just turned 20. Having both babysat extensively, and basically raised my two younger sisters, I was pretty much over child-rearing. So when the Catholic priest mentioned that he’d be asking us during the ceremony if we’d “welcome children cheerfully,” I told him to please delete that line. I had no intention of procreating, then or ever. The household of my childhood had been a chaotic mess, captained by two well-meaning but completely over-matched parents. Did I want to continue my life in a place where children threw hairbrushes at one another, and sister pulled “borrowed” sweater away from sister? No way! Lucky for me, Father Ben (who was a rookie) agreed to yank those words from the wedding vows.
Fast forward four years. On October 1, 1981, my middle sister Maureen was killed in a car accident at age 23. This tragedy rocked my world, and underscored the fragility of life for me. My youngest sister Carolyn and I were left to bridge the chasm, reaching out across the void where Mo had been. We panicked at the thought that one or the other of us would disappear as well.
And so, gradually, my feelings changed. My husband and I produce children’s theater for a living, and we’d watch the lovely young families attending our shows with increasing envy. Their children were clearly the light of their lives. I never witnessed a single hairbrush thrown (though admittedly I was never behind closed doors). By the summer of 1983, we were ready to try for a baby, and in May 1984 our son Sheridan was born.
Two years later, Evan arrived on the scene, and for many, that family of four would have been quite enough. But it didn’t feel that way to us. Though our budget was tight, we were able to afford a bigger brood, and over time the idea of a large household began to hold more and more appeal — definitely more than vacations and restaurant splurges. In short order, Rose, Patrick and Julie made their appearances. Finally, we were complete, and so was our joy.
We live in a neighborhood where several families number six or more, so we are not considered bizarre. Our kids have always worn hand-me-downs, and have not attended the priciest summer camps, nor will they go to Harvard or Yale. We never made it to Disney World. Fish sticks and mac and cheese were standard dinner fare during the young years, and yet we still held hands around the dinner table and gave thanks.
We were able to figure out ways to afford the things that mattered most — for example, music lessons. As a result, our oldest son is a classical composer, and several of our other kids are accomplished musicians. I’ve never heard them grouse about missing out on the Magic Kingdom. Our magic kingdom revolved around flutes, pianos and violins.
I do recall one woman who took offense at our big family, sniffing, “I am only having one child because I care about this planet!” And I understand her reasoning, I do. But here’s the thing: a one-child policy is not a cure-all for what ails the earth. I believe, if we recycle, conserve, and tread lightly, we will not make or break humanity’s future by having a few more kids. Indeed, birth rates have been declining, and many couples do choose to remain happily child-free. There is a balance being struck.
In a world spinning out of control on so many fronts, having children is a giant vote of confidence that things will get better. We as a species will go on. Our kids will have precious company on their life journeys.
So congratulations to the Baldwins, and all who fill their hearts with little ones. There is no shame in welcoming a brimming houseful. A world filled with beautiful children is a world in which I love to live: a world of laughter, and happiness, and hope against all odds.